


The Ghost Writer

by howevernow (bluedreaming)



Category: X-Men: First Class (2011) - Fandom
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Gen, Murder Mystery, scary level 2: scary
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:11:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8438047
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bluedreaming/pseuds/howevernow
Summary: “I wrote that a woman died in a drain and now it’s happened,” Charles blurts out, and then freezes. Until he said it, it hadn’t felt real, but now it does.“Coincidence,” Erik says after a moment.





	

 

"Oh, right, and Charles?"

Charles looks up from where he’s glancing through the minutes of the meeting, or rather, what should have been the minutes but instead ended up being notes for a story he needs to send his dad by the end of the day. The prompt has been percolating in his head since breakfast, and when Hank had brought up the idea of adding a science tips column in the school paper, he’d nodded and promptly zoned out. It’s not that Charles is uninterested in science, but he can only fend off an idea so far before it starts spilling out.

"Hmm," he tries, hoping that Raven won’t notice that he hasn’t been paying attention to the last few points, but from the way she’s narrowing her eyes it’s probably a lost cause. The idea maps on the page in front of him probably aren’t helping either.

"Anyway," Raven says, the sigh very loud in her voice, "as I was saying, I need to clear this Hank’s suggestion with the principal." A small stack of papers lands on the table in front of Charles, leaving him blinking as the disturbed air blows across his face.

"What’s this?" Charles asks, mind still caught on the climax of the story. Last week’s story had gotten some really positive feedback, and even though it should be easier, now that he’s already done one, it actually feels harder. What if the worst one was just a fluke? His eyes skim the packet of papers, his forehead wrinkling in confusion when he sees. "Why did you give me a copy of today’s homework assignments?"

"Honestly." Raven points to the name on the top left corner, and imitates their teacher, Ms. Brown’s clear diction and hand gestures. " _Raven, thank you once again for taking the time to deliver this homework to your classmate. I very much appreciate it._ " Her voice lowers in tone, back to what Charles thinks of as her baseline. "I’m still not sure why they can’t just email it to him or something, but whatever."

Charles is still staring at the name on the paper. Erik Lehnsherr

"Why are you taking homework to Lehnsherr?" he asks, his voice skeptical. He thinks back to his classes, blinking when he realizes that it’s actually been a while since he’s seen the guy. They don’t really move in the same circles, after all. He tries to swallow back the thought that he’s kind of glad, anyway.

"Honestly, Charles," Raven says, and just rolls her eyes, gathering her laptop and papers as she heads out. "I’ve messaged you his address already, so you don’t have any excuses." Charles is left, watching her fuck the establishment message turning the corner as she disappears out the doorway. It’s a little ironic, given the fact that she’s apparently taking homework to a classmate they don’t even like at the behest of the educational establishment.

"Didn’t you know he got mono at the beginning of the school year?" Hank asks, his computer closing with s soft click. He turns to Charles, pushing up the bridge of his glasses. "He’s been away for a month already."

No, Charles didn’t know, and he’s starting to think that maybe the only one who doesn’t like Erik is him, a thought that makes him feel a little uncomfortable, because he’s not that kind of person. Is he?

"We don’t exactly have the same hobbies," he finally settles for saying, and Hank nods after a moment.

"I suppose that’s true," he agrees. "Raven is in psychology class with him, so she sees him more often. Usually," he adds, and slings his shoulderbag over one arm. Charles realizes, with a start, that he’s the last one in the room.

"Want to hang out after school?" he asks, scrambling to his feet and sweeping all his papers into his bag, a sudden burst of action after his momentary disbelief.

Hank just gives him a look, and Charles can’t help but flush at his transparent suggestion. "No, I do not want to tag along with you to Erik’s house." Hank laughs, footsteps crossing the floor as Charles misses his backpack with his aim and sweeps his notebook onto the floor. When he straightens, Erik’s homework is still sitting on the table, staring at him, as though it’s daring him not to be a jerk. 

"Shut up," Charles tells it, and shoves it into his bag.

 

 

 

 

Charles isn’t surprised at Erik’s house; after all, he’s always seemed like the kind of person whose family has money. The concierge peers at him over his desk, white cap perched on white hair, but when Charles explains about doing Raven a favour he just nods and waves him along.

"Mr. Lehnsherr is expecting you," he says, and turns back what looks like a crossword puzzle. Charles resists the urge to stall by asking if he can help. Erik at least is a known quantity, but "Mr. Lehnsherr" reminds him that he might actually be meeting Erik’s parents too.

"You’re just dropping off some homework," he tells his reflection in the elevator mirror, and sticks out a tongue at himself. It makes him feel a little better, that is, until he’s standing in the hushed and carpeted hallway, finger hovering above the doorbell.

There’s a buzzing from his pocket, and Charles drops his hand to retrieve his phone, relieved for the respite until he sees the message waiting for him.

bet you’re stalling in front of his door, the words read, and Charles scowls at the screen, even though Raven can’t see his face. He jabs his finger at the doorbell without thinking about it, and almost stumbles into the apartment when the lock opens beneath his hand.

"Hello?" he says, peering around, but the vestibule is empty. He takes off his shoes, just to be sure, propping his dripping umbrella against the wall and padding on stocking feet into the apartment. He glances into the sitting room, expecting to see Erik’s father, since the concierge had mentioned that Mr. Lehnsherr was expecting him, but there’s no one there. The apartment is huge, immaculate, and appears to be entirely empty.

"Hello?" Charles calls again, a shiver running down his spine, despite trying to shake it off. This isn’t one of his stories, and Raven’s apparently been here loads of times already. It’s not till he turns the corner of the hallway that he sees a warm glow pooling out beneath a door at the end of the corridor, and hears a soft hissing, interrupted by what sounds like staticy voices.

"Calling all officers in the area to scene," the voice says, sounds resolving into words as he approaches, and Charles wonders if Erik is watching a movie. In the empty house, the effect is strangely eerie.

He knocks at the door, barely pushing against the wood before it swings open, his wide eyes meeting startled blue eyes. There’s no television, just a radio next to a bed.

"Oh," Charles says, at the sight of his classmate lying in bed, propped up on pillows, his expression of surprise quickly resolving into a displeased frown.

"You," Erik says, and opens his mouth when the voice from the radio breaks through the static again.

"Unidentified body located in drain on the corner of 49th and 28th streets," the voice says, and Charles can’t help but gasp.

"What," he begins, pointing to the radio, "I mean, is that real?"

Erik raises an eyebrow. His face is pale, and he looks thinner than what Charles remembers, but they’ve never been close by any stretch of the imagination, more the opposite in fact, and Erik’s slightly mocking expression is definitely not winning him any favours, especially not right now.

"If by real, you mean is it a real police dispatcher talking about real events, then yes," Erik says, and then stares. Charles can feel the blood draining from his face, if the icy feeling filling his head is anything to go by.

"You look like you’ve seen a ghost," Erik says, and Charles manages to find a scowl amidst his shock. It can’t be real.

"They found a body in a drain," Charles says.

"Yes, that’s exactly what the person said," Erik says,

"No, well yes, but no, I mean," Charles fumbles for the right words, because Erik is looking at him like he’s lost his mind and he doesn’t care what Erik thinks of him but this is more important than that. "I wrote that, a week ago."

"You wrote that?" Erik only looks like this is further proof that Charles is completely unhinged.

"It was an anonymous prompt for a short story," he says, waving a hand, and Erik’s eyes widen slightly before narrowing again.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about," he says.

"I wrote that a woman died in a drain and now it’s happened," Charles blurts out, and then freezes. Until he said it, it hadn’t felt real, but now it does.

"Coincidence," Erik says after a moment.

"I," Charles begins, and then takes a deep breath. He’s panicking over nothing. Hank would tell him he’s panicking over nothing. "I guess you’re right," he says, shoulders slumping slightly. He roots around in his bag for the homework packet, and sets it on the desk. "Here’s your homework, anyway."

"Thanks," Erik says, just looking at him. Charles feels embarrassed at his outburst, and just wants to leave.

"Yeah, whatever," he mumbles, slinging the bag back on his back. "See you."

Erik doesn’t say anything, and Charles pulls the door shut behind him. It’s after he waves to the concierge, unfolding his umbrella and stepping out beneath the grey clouds and rain that he realizes that "Mr. Lehnsherr" was probably Erik himself.

And why did he have a police scanner anyway?

Charles shrugs. _Coincidence_ , he tells himself, and tries to focus on the story he has due. It’s kind of hard to concentrate; all he can think of is the body in the drain.

 _Coincidence_ , he tells himself, and skirts puddles on the way home.

 


End file.
